


sweet as maple

by gealbhan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Secret Santa, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, bg keith/lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 06:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13048407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gealbhan/pseuds/gealbhan
Summary: “Soulmates are a beautiful thing,” Allura’s father had told her once.





	sweet as maple

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written fic in so long omg
> 
> for @orbitlance on tumblr! i hope you like it, it got way out of control and was very self-indulgent lmao but i like how it turned out!
> 
> title is from "maple" by hayley kiyoko

“Soulmates are a beautiful thing,” Allura’s father had told her once.

She was settled upon his knee, violet nightdress sprawled about. She had looked, wide-eyed, up from the timer on her wrist—the string of numbers larger than she could dream up—to his honest face.

He’d chuckled and patted her shoulder. “One day, you’ll meet your other half. I had thirds,” he added, wry, holding out the two sets _00:00:00_ on his wrist. Fading Sharpie doodles marked each: an orange star on the upper one, a pink heart on the lower one.

Allura, her nose scrunched up, pressed their wrists together. Her number looked so large compared to her father’s two. Could hers really someday match those zeroes? “That’s a long time,” she told Alfor. “Why do I have to wait so long?”

It was near impossible to wait for mealtime. She eyed her timer again, and her lips twisted into a frown. She would be an old lady by the time all those hours ran out.

“I promise you,” said Alfor, with all the patience he’d accumulated over the years, “it will be well worth the wait.”

Allura didn’t much like the sound of that. It was still a wait, and if fate really wanted her soulmate to be worth it, why wouldn’t it plop them down now? But she nodded anyway, then yawned. “I’m sleepy,” she said. “Can you read that story to me again? The one with the princesses?”

“Of course.” Alfor smiled and kissed her forehead. Then he swept her up onto his shoulders, and they rose from the chair as one giant.

Their conversation forgotten, Allura thrust her arms out on either side of her. “I’m flying!” she squealed.

Alfor laughed. “You sure are,” he said. Allura could not see his face, and thus could not see the wistfulness there. She lowered her arms to his neck as they strode toward her bedroom. “You sure are.”

+

Allura clings to her father’s words all her life—every time she looks at her wrist and it’s even a second closer, she remembers it, feels it with every inch of her body. Every time she looks up at Alfor, Eudora, and Coran. _Thirds_ , she remembers. She stares at her timer and wonders about her so-called other half.

She devotes about a quarter of her life to daydreams. As for the rest, she pours herself into her schoolwork and the people around her. A peacemaker, she’s called when she mediates tensions between her friends. Neutrality is a good skill to have, she decides, but she learns to arbitrate as well, because sometimes it isn’t possible. She spends time on herself too, of course—mental health days here and there, weekly workouts at the local gym. The thoughts that wander into her mind most often in these times of hard work and self-love are those of her soulmate.

She knows she doesn’t have to love them, but she still wants their bond to be meaningful in some way. She gravitates toward people and has a wide circle of friends and acquaintances, but she doesn’t have one singular relationship she prioritizes. Maybe that’s for the best. She’s never liked friendship hierarchy much. But still, she hopes her soulmate is someone who _gets_ her.

When she meets Lance Alvarez, she glances to her wrist, though she’d looked at it a few minutes before. Allura gets along better with him than with any of her friends in the past, once he drops the flirtatious bravado. His false smiles are more obvious up close, though Allura doubts the ones on his beauty vlogs are all genuine.

She sometimes checks her wrist when she’s among the friends that come with him—Hunk, the gentle giant genius; Pidge, the smarmy tech wizard who is at least two years younger than them; and Shiro, who is a student teacher for a third grade class. He came with Pidge, because he’s been friends with her brother—who works for NASA or something now—for years. Everything falls into place, despite their full wrists.

Allura looks around at one study session Shiro has derailed to tell a story about his brother. They’ve never met the legendary Keith, but they’ve heard plenty stories. When their laughter is fading, Allura slings an arm around Pidge’s shoulder, because she’s the closest, and hugs her. Pidge tilts her head and brushes a lock of pink-streaked hair out of her eye.

“What was that for?” she asks, tweaking her glasses. “I don’t mind, but—”

Allura looks around the table with a cheek-to-cheek smile. “You all are just great,” she says. “You’re the best friends I’ve ever had.”

An _awww_ runs around the table, and then they return the sentiment. Lance steals another slice of pizza and takes a bite. Still chewing, he stretches to kinda hug Allura—with the difficulty of the distance, it’s more like he pats her shoulder and she pats his knuckles.

Allura doesn’t say it aloud, but she feels like she’s home. There’s just one missing piece.

She glances at her wrist, which she miraculously hasn’t looked at for a couple days. She blinks at the time that’s ticked away—as time tends to do. There’s about two weeks left. She runs her other hand across the numbers, ticking down even now.

Taking a breath, Allura tunes back into the conversation—another tale about Keith—and swallows the nerves bubbling in her stomach.

+

Lance stares at the assignment paper Allura has passed over the table. His eyes flicker over the words a few times. Allura waits for a reaction, anticipation in her shoulders. Lance leans back, lifting his eyebrows.

“Good luck,” he tells her.

Allura huffs and slides the paper back to her pile of textbooks. “Thanks.” She strokes her chin and stares at the paragraph. It’s not that hard of the prompt, but making the word minimum—okay, she can handle this.

Just not now. Her eyes flicker to her wrist, second nature by now. Naturally, since she’d last looked at it five minutes ago, it’s five minutes closer than it was then. Closer and closer. It’s almost a week left now. Anxiety pulses in her veins.

She lifts her head and bites her lip. “Lance.”

Lance glances up, fingers on the page of a marine biology textbook. “Yeah?”

“What do you think your soulmate will be like?”

A long pause. Lance, wordless, closes the book and slides aside the rest of his course materials. He takes a lengthy sip of water while Allura studies the whorls of wood in the table. She could’ve called one of her parents instead, she supposes, but she doesn’t want another lecture about how beautiful and wonderful everything will be. Not right now. She takes a deep breath.

“It’s just—” She folds her hands, curling one set of fingers delicately over the other and cracking her knuckles. “Mine is pretty close. So is yours, yes?”

Lance licks his lips. “I’ve been keeping myself from checking, but—” He flips his wrist over and his eyebrows shoot up, grazing his hairline. “Ah,” he says, voice cracking. “Well, that’s something.”

“What? What is it?”

Silent again, Lance raises his arm. His expression is blank, eyes wide and mouth a thin line. Allura’s eyes drop to the numbers. _00:05:02_ lies in black over Lance’s veins. Seconds tick away. It seems Allura couldn’t have found a better time to bring this up.

“Ah,” repeats Allura. She takes his hand in hers and squeezes it tight. “I’m not sure what to tell you, but… I’m sure it will be lovely. Fitting of a Lifetime original.”

Lance flashes her a toothpaste commercial smile. He murmurs a soft prayer Allura can’t make out—she thinks it’s in Spanish, anyway. He squeezes her hand again and then lets it go, moving to fidget with the nearest book’s corner instead. “I mean,” he says, gears turning behind his eyes, “if they don’t turn out to be, y’know, a good person or that into me or whatever, it’s on fate, right? And I don’t know if I’m like, ready to settle down and whatnot. I’m barely eighteen.”

Toying with her hair, Allura smiles at him, returning the teeth. “That’s very true.” She sighs and looks down at her assignment, if only to keep from peeking at her wrist. “I hope mine turns out as breathtaking as my father has always described it.”

“Hey.” Lance threads their fingers together again. “It’ll all go great. I believe in us. ...Unless fate wants to deliver repercussions for us being so talented and good-looking.”

Allura snorts and swats mockingly at his hand. “Maybe for you,” she says. When she peers back up at Lance, his face has dropped into a frown. “All right, enough with the negativity and heaviness this fine afternoon.” It’s directed at both of them.

Lance flips his textbook back open, but after a couple moments it’s obvious neither is going to get any work done. Allura holds her breath with Lance as he goes back to studying his wrist. They exchange a wide-eyed look.

“Okay.” Lance’s leg jiggles, ratting the table. Allura clasps her hands together. “I wonder what they’ll be like—I dunno if they’ll be like ‘the One’ or whatever, but fate has to have picked them for some reason—”

“It’ll be a magical moment,” says Allura, only a little teasing. “Your eyes will lock from across this very room and you’ll be captivated by their energy—”

_“Alluuuuura.”_

“Sorry, sorry.” Allura laughs and pats his knuckles, splayed across the table of contents of his marine biology textbook. “But really, I hope you get someone marvelous. No—I _know_ you will.”

Lance smiles dizzily up at her. She returns to her books and assignment paper. After a few more glance-overs, she realizes she might need a little more research material. She wishes she’d brought her laptop, but when in Rome, she supposes…

She’s just gotten to her feet when a dark-haired individual breezes past, jacket collar obscuring his jaw. Wearing sunglasses, he doesn’t seem to notice them. With a mighty _thud_ , he collides with their table.

The scene fades to slow motion: the stranger’s gloved hand doesn’t tip forward that much, but it’s enough that he drops his coffee cup. It must not have been sealed properly, because when it thwacks against the wood, the lid comes tumbling off. And then everything comes crashing into regular speed. Coffee leaks across Lance’s—the library’s—marine biology textbook and drips down off the table. It’s also spreading across the floor, where the cup is now sprawled.

Lance wails in horror, scrambling to his feet. The dark-haired boy mutters a series of _fuck_ s as he struggles to collect his coffee cup and jam the lid back on. Allura can’t know for sure because of the sunglasses (indoors, really?), but immense waves of regret roll off the guy.

“What the hell—” starts Lance.

“Sorry.” The guy drops his shoulders and shifts backward, regret now replaced with sharp edges. He stands, coffee cup and its lid pressed together like two unfitting puzzle pieces a child is determined to stick together. He picks at his ponytail, assumingly glancing between Allura and Lance. “I’ll—uh—pay for it.”

And with that, he’s turned the other way and marched toward the counter by the entrance. Lance sinks back into his chair, staring at the coffee that appears to be everywhere. Allura slips her couple textbooks and assignment off the table while she still can.

“Well,” says Lance, “there go those notes.”

Allura pats his shoulder. She glances over her shoulder to see sunglasses kid indeed talking with the librarian. “Chin up,” she attempts, twisting back. “What does your, ah, wrist say?”

Lance perks up and flips his arm over. Instead of the excitement Allura had hoped for, panic floods into his face. Allura’s brows furrow, and she glances down. _00:00:00_.

“Oh—” Her voice leaves her. She clears her throat and glances behind her again. Ponytail is now marching back toward them, face contorting awkwardly and coffee cup ditched. His sunglasses are tipped back, eyes unreadable. “Good luck with that,” says Allura, patting Lance’s shoulder again.

She takes a step. Lance clutches her jacket sleeve. “Please mediate.”

“Sorry, I must work on this essay.”

Lance pleads—not that serious, she suspects—but Allura grabs her bag and slinks into the nearest bookshelves. She’s in the romance section—well, she doubts this will help with her political science essay. When Ponytail grows closer to the table, Lance having taken up shaking the coffee out of his book, Allura bites her lip. She waves to catch Lance’s attention, then mouths sorry. She feels bad for leaving him there, but she feels like this is a conversation for two persons only.

Ignoring the urge to eavesdrop—he’ll tell her all about it later anyway—Allura strolls to the more helpful sections. By the time she’s found all the credible research materials she needs, she takes a peek back at Lance and his soulmate’s table. Well, they’re not fighting, but rather… laughing.

Tension seeps out of Allura’s shoulders. She exhales and hovers by the shelves she’s leaving for a moment, watching Lance wave his hands and chatter about something. His soulmate presses his cheek into his palm. Allura can’t make out his expression from here, but he seems relaxed.

She scurries to the librarian and checks her books out. While the lady is swiping the barcodes, Allura glances at her wrist.

Still a week left.

+

Allura scrunches her nose and taps her pencil against her forehead. The words piled on her laptop screen—and those scrawled on the piece of paper beside her, written in her messy cursive—are starting to blend together. She drags an aggravated hand through her hair. She’s going to finish this essay on her fucking deathbed.

She drums her nails along the table. Eyes flickering between her notes and screen, she wonders if smashing her head into the keyboard would result in a coherent introduction paragraph. All she has is the hook, and it’s not even a good hook. Maybe she should start on the body first, get that squared away…

Needless to say, her eyes are very far from her wrist as she reaches for her half-empty mug. She leans back into the stiff couch. She loves the Pink Lion, but they could really have better furniture.

And then, the door opens, the bell drawing Allura’s attention over a couple conversations and someone else’s typing (screw them and their work ethic). Allura’s eyes lock with a pair of soft, long-lashed golden ones. They belong to a tall brown-skinned girl, her dark hair styled in a wavy bob. The girl peers back at her. Allura drops her gaze, edges of her eyes stinging with an unfamiliar kind of nostalgia.

Out of the corners of her eyes, she notices the girl lift her wrist and pause. She’d do anything to escape this essay at the moment, so out of curiosity, she takes a look at her own wrist.

Her heart nearly flings itself out of her chest. With an odd lightheadedness, Allura stumbles to her feet and meets the girl’s eyes again. She raises her arm, displaying the set of numbers there: _00:00:00_.

The girl holds out her own wrist— _00:00:00_ —and smiles at her, warm and kind and honest. Her eyes crinkle at the edges. Oh, thinks Allura, this is what all those fables told her about. It both lives up to the experience and goes far beyond. The warmth in her limbs, her stammering heartbeat, the tingling in her stomach—the feeling as if stumbling upon a childhood friend from another lifetime. Could Snow White really have experienced this all with her mediocre prince? Allura doubts it.

She steps forward, and the girl—her soulmate—has mirrored her already. “I’m Allura,” she hears herself say. She can feel the other eyes in the cafe looking at them.

Her soulmate takes her hand and shakes it—her large fingers, warm and calloused, linger for a moment. “I am Shay. It is so, so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Allura beams. Tears might be welling up in her eyes, but she pays it no mind. “And you.”

She feels like a piece of the puzzle that is the world has fallen into place—a small piece, but an important one. An irreplacable one. And it happened here: in Allura’s favorite coffee shop, Carly Rae Jepsen playing on the speakers, and Nyma losing it behind the counter.

Allura glances over her shoulder. Her eyes fall on her laptop. She bites her lip and looks over to Nyma. Her political science teacher is married—he’ll understand. “Hey, could you get us a table? And Shay here whatever drinks or sweets she’d like.”

+

Steam curls up from the hot cocoa mug between Shay’s palms. She keeps glancing down at her wrist like she can’t quite believe it, and keeps having to confirm. Allura knows the feeling—it’s rushing through her veins right now. It’s almost disconcerting to see the string of numbers she’d known so long (always different, of course) replaced with a steady set of zeroes.

She feels like she’s in a dream, cotton around the edges of her vision and clouds beneath her tennis shoes instead of hard tile. She clings to the setting, to the warmth of her espresso cup and to the softness of Shay’s eyes. She wonders, subconscious, if her hair is as soft.

They sit in the corner farthest from the door now. Shay’s jean jacket is slung over the back of her chair, which she keeps shifting in, limbs tucked into herself. Allura’s laptop and class materials are back in her bag, which is on the floor between them, strap around her leg.

They’re both still processing, Allura thinks. Or at least she is. Shay’s eyelashes drift—so they are in the same boat. Allura gently nudges her cup aside and clears her throat.

Shay’s head jerks up, face reddening. “Ah—my apologies, I was… lost in thought.”

“I get it.” Allura pushes past the haze of her mind— _this is really happening, this is her soulmate who fate itself selected_ —and offers Shay a diplomatic smile. “Let’s start with the simple facts. Hm, what—what do you do for fun?”

Shay’s eyes light up. “I frequent a local fitness center,” she says, lifting a finger. “Working out is quite enjoyable—and healthy.”

“I see.” Allura coughs. Flame hops to her cheeks as she pretends like she hasn’t been ogling the defined muscles highlighted by Shay’s sleeveless top. “I try to work out as often as I can”—she flexes, though she doesn’t have near the muscle mass Shay does—“but school and work interfere, unfortunately.”

“Well, my major is part of it, I must admit,” says Shay, with a soft laugh. When Allura tilts her head, she clarifies, “Physical education.” Allura is captivated—she’s never been so drawn into someone’s joyous energy. “What about you, Allura? Your pastimes and—are you a student, as well?”

“I am.” Allura sits forward, putting her weight into her elbows. “I’m majoring in political science and minoring in aeronautical engineering. My father owns Altea Aircraft, so I’ve always been interested in that sort of thing.” She scratches her cheek. “I considered a business major or minor, since I will inherit the company one day, but I decided just to study it on my own. And I also considered a double major, but I didn’t think that much would be good for my health.”

Shay smiles. “Your course load is admirable nonetheless,” she says. “I have not considered nearly as much as you—or as many intriguing subjects—but I have always had an interest in literature. My parents say my brother Rax and I picked up speech patterns from period pieces.”

“That’s adorable.” Allura reaches for Shay’s fingers and tips her hand into her own. Shay meets her eyes with a dimpled smile. For a beat, Allura forgets what she was going to say, but she clears her throat and recovers. “I adore classic literature too—I love Jane Austen.”

“ _Mansfield Park_ is one of my favorite novels,” says Shay, eyes glittering. She laughs again, a harmonious sound that brings an empathetic smile to Allura’s face. “I am aware of how my interests contrast, but we are all enigmas of some variety, are we not?”

“Indeed.”

There’s comfort in the silence that settles over them. Shay lifts her mug with her free hand and drinks, pinky jutting out. Allura absently runs her thumb along the webbing between Shay’s index finger and thumb. It’s relaxing. She studies Shay’s hands, soft to the touch and shiny to the appearance.

“Your hands are so smooth,” she comments, a little in awe. “Do you moisturize?”

Shay pauses mid-sip. She swallows, then lowers her mug back down. “Rarely,” she says, sheepish. “I am sure I should more often, but I do not have much time in the morning.”

Allura smiles and shrugs. “That’s all right, as long as you’re healthy otherwise. I’m just a guest on my friend Lance’s beauty channel sometimes, and he was looking for some new skincare routines to try.”

Shay blinks. “Lance as in Lance Alvarez?”

“You know him?”

“Of him.” Shay combs a lock of hair behind her ear and adjusts her earrings. Allura blinks away the reflected light. “I have seen several of his videos, and he is very close with Hunk Savea.”

“I know Hunk,” says Allura. “We’re friends—Lance introduced us, but we’ve hung out on our own a few times. How do you know Hunk?”

“We are in the same calculus class. He assists me. He is brilliant,” says Shay, grinning, and Allura agrees. “I admire him.” Shay’s eyes crinkle, hand warm against Allura’s. “It is astounding we have friends in common.”

Allura feels a little dizzy. “Yeah.” She glances toward the ceiling. Her head jerks down at the brightness of the light fixture, but the sentiment remains. “I suppose fate kept us from bumping into each other until this moment, hm?”

“I suppose so.”

Their peaceful little moment—Allura verging on wanting to curse fate and wanting to talk to Shay more—is shattered by a muffled ringing. Shay startles, jolting upward out of her seat. She turns to scramble through her jacket pocket for the source. When she comes up with the phone, she furrows her brows.

“I apologize profusely,” she says, whirling around as her phone continues to ring in her hand. “My brother has no sense of timing. I did promise him I would contact him soon, however, so I am afraid I have to take this.”

“Oh, no problem!” Allura holds her hands up. “I would love to talk here all day, but school and family exist.” She smooths back her hair, toying with her loose braids. Shay’s phone ceases ringing for a moment, then goes right back to it. “I can give you my number…?”

“That would be splendid. Hold on—”

Shay jams her thumb onto the decline button, types something out furiously, and then gestures for Allura to go on. Allura rattles off the digits. Shay plugs them and something else in, much gentler than before. Allura’s phone vibrates against her leg as Shay flashes a megawatt smile and brandishes a message screen.

“I’ll—we can make plans to meet again soon?”

“Absolutely,” says Shay, without hesitation. She rises and drags her jacket on again—and her phone begins ringing again. Shaking her head, she stares down at it. _“Siblings.”_

Allura laughs. “You and Lance would get along. And Hunk. And Pidge. And Shiro.” She realizes she’s the singular only child in her friend group.

“So Hunk has informed me. About Lance, anyhow.” Shay runs her hands through her hair and takes one last look at Allura. Her eyes drop to the table, and then widen. “Oh! I have to pay—”

“On the house,” calls Nyma, from the counter. She flips her dip-dyed ponytail over her shoulder and attempts, in vain, to pretend like she hasn’t been listening in on whatever she can get of the conversation. “The soulmate deal. You meet in the Pink Lion, anything you get is free for two hours.”

She gestures to the menu board, where indeed, this is noted. Shay blinks and nods. “My gratitude,” she says, glancing between Nyma and her phone. When her phone beeps as a reminder, she sighs and accepts the call, with one last smile toward Allura. “Hello, Rax—”

Allura’s eyes follow her out of the shop. The bell rings behind her, and then she’s gone, with only a mug of cooling hot cocoa and a text to verify her existence.

Allura sighs and slumps against the table. Nyma, smirking, swings by to pick up Shay’s mug. “Threw you for a loop, huh?”

“In the most wonderful way possible.”

+

Scratching out his class notes for the week on a piece of scrap paper, Shiro looks around at the exhausted five students scattered around his living room.

Allura fights off another yawn, English textbook jutting into her thighs. Pidge snores quietly, head on her keyboard and hair sticking up. Keith makes no secret of the amount of coffee he’s chugged in an hour alone. (Allura’s first impressions of him, both as Shiro’s brother and Lance’s soulmate perhaps weren’t the best, but he’s joined their close-knit family.) Hunk types, but his eyelids droop every few seconds. Lance’s cheek is pressed to his textbook, delirious murmurs falling from his mouth.

Shiro sighs and slams the nearest open textbook shut. The noise jolts both Pidge and Hunk upright, Hunk with a strained yelp of “I’m awake!” and Pidge with a startled scramble for her laptop/current pillow. Lance’s head unsticks from his paper with a loud suction noise. Keith jumps, but keeps sipping his fifth cup of coffee.

“Well, I daresay that’s enough studying for the night,” says Shiro. A room-wide sigh of relief ensues. From Shiro’s confiscation basket, Allura’s phone whistles as if on cue. Shiro raises a scarred eyebrow. “You want to get that?”

Allura hops off the couch and is, for a moment, unstable. She steadies herself on the coffee table, blinking away spots and shaking out numbness with each step toward the cabinet. She has to stand on tiptoes to reach it, but she snatches the basket and takes her phone out before setting it down in the middle of the table. To the background cacophony of her friends all reaching in and squabbling at the top of their lungs, she checks her lockscreen, where a text from Shay waits.

A smile lifts her face. Behind her, the noise comes to a halt. Suspicious, but she won’t check yet. After Allura has typed out a dignified response, she turns to see everyone staring at her. “What? Do I have cheese in my teeth?”

“Who texted?” says Hunk.

“No one important,” says Allura, heat rushing to her face at the lie. Already the truth threatens to spill, but she knows how insufferable they would be.

She shoots dagger-eyes at Lance, who’s silent and squinting, already coming to conclusions. She swipes a hand across her throat as subtly as she can. Lance shrugs and leans back, though there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s going to bombard her with questions when he gets the chance.

Well, she might as well. Allura sighs and says, “I met my soulmate,” then immediately stuffs her fingers into her ears.

She’s still overcome with the long pause, then explosion of sound, everyone yelling over each other. The questions overlap and may or may not be all along the same lines— _when, who are they, what are they like, do you like-like them, can we meet them_. Allura clears her throat as loud as she can. In a domino effect, five fall silent and a very tired sixth steals his brother’s coffee.

“We met a couple weeks ago. Her name is Shay Vox and she’s an incredibly kind and muscular physical education major. I like her—I like her a lot, really. And no, I do not know when—or _if_ —you all will meet her.” Allura rattles these off, catching Hunk and Lance blink at the name. She folds her arms and glances around the table. “Anything else?”

“I’d say you covered all the bases,” says Shiro. He smiles, small and assuring. “And I’m overjoyed for you and all, but please cover any remaining bases outside.”

“Ah, right,” says Hunk, scrabbling to his feet. He drags Keith and Lance with him. Pidge, though grumbling under her breath, yawns and stands shakily. “We’ll stop mooching and pester Allura in the hallway.”

“I need to sleep, you guys,” says Allura.

“And/or text Shay,” adds Pidge. Her bright grin is a forcefield against any glares Allura might send in her direction.

Hunk taps Allura’s shoulder, and she peers up at him. “Hey, I know Shay. She’s a really good person. You got lucky.”

Allura squeezes his hand and beams. “I know,” she says, affection overflowing from her voice. “Like I said, she’s incredible and I cannot wait to find out even more about her.”

A chorus of _awww_ s follows, one Shiro’s before he coughs, unceremoniously scattering them from his apartment. They gather up their stuff and say their goodbyes.

As they spill out into the hallway and then the nearest elevator, Allura glances around her. Keith and Lance have a muttered conversation, and Hunk and Pidge concentrate on staying awake. She bites her lip and pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket. Interrogation be damned, she thinks, and calls Shay.

It takes a couple rings for her to pick up, but when she does, she answers with a jubilant, “Hello!”

“Hi. So I was wondering…” Allura locks eyes with a grinning Hunk and presses a finger to her lips. Might as well cut to the chase, she thinks, and she says, “Would you like to go out sometime soon? This weekend, perhaps?”

+

As Allura has been told, dinner and a movie is the perfect first date—and she supposes this is their first date, if they don’t count the meeting in the Pink Lion. She meets Shay at an old-fashioned diner that Saturday evening. If she makes minute adjustments to her poodle skirt, loose bun, and smattering of makeup in the mirror for fifteen minutes, that’s her business.

When she walks in, Shay is already seated, perusing a menu and sipping a milkshake. She’s dressed casually, an unbuttoned Letterman over a T-shirt and jeans. Allura waits for her to look up, and she grins back at the wide smile that illuminates Shay’s entire face. Those dimples shine even from several feet away. Allura nods at an approaching waiter and slides into the booth across from Shay.

“Hi,” she says, a little meek now that they’re face-to-face. The lighting is dim, but mood-appropriate—above the counter, where a few people sit spread out, a fluorescent bar of light flickers. “I’ve only been in here a few times, but it’s superb.”

“I will take your word for it,” says Shay, toying with her straw. “This milkshake is astounding, so I might as well assume that about the rest of their menu.” Her eyes crinkle at the edge when she glances up again. “It is great to see you, by the way. Since the last time we saw one another, I must admit I have pined a little.”

Allura smooths her hair behind her ear. “Thank god,” she murmurs. When Shay quirks her head, Allura clears her throat and says, “Me too! It’s actually quite, ah, a relief to hear you feel the same as I.”

“Of course.” Shay sets her menu down and threads their fingers together. “I do not think it is only our being soulmates, either—though naturally that is a factor. I feel so connected to you already.”

“I as well,” says Allura, squeezing her hand. She crosses her ankles beneath the table to prove she can still move her legs. “So—would it be presumptuous to—well—to call you my girlfriend?”

Shay’s eyes, already seeming to glow, light up, and her dimples deepen. “I would be very partial to that.”

A giggle slips out of Allura before she can swallow it back. Shay’s smile doesn’t falter—it grows wider, if that’s possible. The softness of their gazes is broken by a waiter sliding a menu in front of Allura, maneuvering over their intertwined hands.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” says Allura, letting go of Shay’s hand.

The waiter smiles and waves a hand. “Not to worry. We get a lot of honeymoon phasers in here. I do need to ask if you’d like something to drink, though.”

“Ah—” Allura flips through the menu, blue nail running across the drink section when she finds it. “Pink lemonade, please and thank you.”

As he heads off, Allura scans through the rest of the menu. Once she’s made a decision, she shuts it and sets it atop Shay’s discarded menu. She rubs her knuckles and leans forward. Just as she’s about to engage a conversation again, the waiter drops her pink lemonade off and asks, “Are you ladies ready to order?”

Shay slips her bendy straw out of her mouth. “A cheeseburger and onion rings, thank you.”

“Grilled cheese and fries.” The waiter scribbles this down and strides off again. Allura props her fingers under her chin and turns back to Shay to say, “How have you been? I feel like I haven’t inquired about your well being enough.”

Shay laughs. “I have been well—I have gained a legitimate reason to avoid my brother’s calls,” she says, shrugging, “so that is something.” As Allura snorts, Shay worries her lip between her teeth. “I love Rax and I adore talking to him. He simply gets to be a little much. And now that I have told him about our meeting, he pesters me more than ever.”

Allura frowns. “That sounds difficult,” she says. She may be a biological only child, but she’s gained five siblings now, as far as she’s concerned. And of course she and her parents have had rough patches, but she’s always been happy with her family life. “I don’t know what to offer except condolences, I suppose? And maybe for you to suggest he lay off?”

“I have, numerous times.” Shay sighs and leans into her palm. “Rax is just that sort of a person. He has the tendency to throw his strength around—he is very protective, but he can go too far.”

“I’m sorry,” says Allura, taking Shay’s other hand. “Well, ah—a lighter topic of conversation, maybe?” She thinks for a moment, absently stroking Shay’s knuckles. “Oh! Why did you choose to go into education?”

Shay’s eyes light up again, and she launches into a ramble about the current state of the education field and how she’d like to help as many people as she can. Allura could waste so much time just listening to Shay talk like this—of course, it isn’t wasting time to her; it’d be a delightful way to spend it. Shay has possibly the gentlest voice she’s ever heard, save her mother’s, and her words are grandiose but well thought out. Allura hears herself sigh, a little dreamy.

After a few minutes, Shay comes to a sudden halt, going bright red. “I am so sorry—I did not mean to speak that much. My future career is simply something I consider myself passionate about.”

“No, no,” Allura is quick to say, waving her hand. “It was lovely to hear about. I wouldn’t mind hearing you talk for hours.” She coughs. “I admire kind people—which you most certainly are.”

Shay flushes even deeper. “Thank you,” she says, a little feeble. Something seems to occur to her. “Oh—what film did you purchase tickets for?”

“Ah, that.” Allura scratches the back of her neck. “I haven’t actually bought them yet. I figured we could see what’s still open when we get to the theater and go from there.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Before Allura thinks of another conversation topic—it’s not that she has trouble coming up with any; rather, the opposite—the waiter slides their plates in front of them. Allura and Shay thank him in unison and enjoy more pleasantries over their meals. Allura sneaks a few of Shay’s onion rings off her plate—Shay retaliates by stealing several fries.

It’s a good date, though Allura doesn’t have any real-life standards to hold it to. The worst part is when they argue over who pays. After ten minutes and the waiter telling them they’re disturbing the other customers, Allura concedes, but not without hotly defending her right to their next dinner. Not to mention the tip. She leaves a little extra, along with a mouthed sorry at the counter. She hopes their faces won’t be plastered along with the message _Do not allow into the Lion’s Den_ in the morning.

They walk to the movie theater a couple blocks away, leaving Allura’s Corvette and Shay’s motorcycle—which Allura is very excited to hitch a ride on at some point—in the diner parking lot. Allura loops their arms together on the first crosswalk. Shay stumbles a little on her words, but that brilliant smile returns to her face.

Only a horror and romance movie are still playing and have spots left. Allura leans toward the horror, which looks poorly-made. They settle on the romance, which Shay gravitates toward and which looks like it’ll be funny-bad if nothing else. They grab a bucket of popcorn and head into the otherwise empty theater (in retrospect, that was a sign) as the previews are wrapping up.

Their hands brush in the popcorn as soon as the opening credits. Though her face burns, Allura refuses to back down and clasps Shay’s hand. They exchange sappy smiles akin to those of the generic straight white couple who has just met-cute. The movie is ridiculous and cheesy, with a discount-bin A-plot and a much more interesting B-plot. Of course, the latter remains unresolved, and they walk out an hour later, unfulfilled.

Shay is the one to link their arms together this time, as they meander back to the diner, now closed. Allura leans into Shay, hesitant to let her go once they reach her Corvette, one of two vehicles still in the parking lot. Shay glances at her. They stiffly separate in the desolate parking lot, underneath an unlit neon sign and staring at each other, unsure how to end the night.

“I had a terrific time,” says Allura.

“And I,” says Shay.

They stare at each other for a moment longer, before Shay blinks and asks if Allura is cold without a jacket. Huh. She hadn’t noticed the temperature before, but now it’s obvious. She shivers. When she exhales, her breath creates white vapor.

“A little,” she admits.

Without hesitating, Shay shrugs off her jacket and drapes it around Allura’s shoulders. Allura adjusts the collar. It’s about three sizes too big for her and incredibly comfortable. Allura can’t hide her smile. She tucks a bit of wind-rustled hair behind her ear, peering up at Shay.

“Thank you for a lovely evening—and your coat,” says Allura, buttoning it up. “I’ll return it next time we see each other.”

Shay laughs. “Keep it.” Allura’s face heats up, but she nods before she even realizes she’s doing so. She’d like to stay wrapped in Shay’s oversized, snug coat forever, thanks. “Thank you as well. I do not know what I expected of my soulmate, but you have exceeded my expectations in every way possible.”

Allura swallows. “You too,” she says, which sounds weak, but Shay had stolen the words from her mouth.

Speaking of mouths—before she can chicken out, she tilts up onto her tiptoes and wraps her arms around Shay’s neck. Shay leans down into her. It takes some adjusting with the height difference, but as Shay’s hands fall around Allura’s shoulders, Allura’s eyes flutter shut. Her heart stammers in her chest like a hummingbird’s.

And then their lips meet. It’s nothing like the fireworks in the movie they’d watched, but it’s oddly poetic. Two puzzle-piece girls in the parking lot of a closed restaurants, no lights save for the moon and the passing headlights. Allura squeezes Shay’s neck one last time before she careens back.

They smile at each other again, a little less breathless and more willing to end on this cookie-cutter note.

“Goodnight, Shay.”

“Goodnight, Allura.”

Allura watches as Shay strides off to her motorcycle. She tries not to ogle too much while Shay turns on her ignition and slides her helmet on—but hey, she’s always been a sucker for bikers. She watches Shay wave one last time before she zips off into the streets.

Though she knows Shay (hopefully) won’t see it until later, she whips out her phone and texts her. _Had a great time. Can’t wait to see you again!_ Deliberating, she adds another message: _Speaking of next time, will you take me for a swing on that bike?_

And with that, she dizzily runs a hand across her face, and then climbs into her Corvette.

+

A couple weeks later, Lance slides into the seat across the table from Allura in the Pink Lion. “Hey,” he says, “you and Shay are like, going steady now, right? Facebook official and all?”

Allura says, “Neither of us have Facebook,” before lifting her head. She doesn’t answer the full question—instead, she squints at a pink and glittery smear on Lance’s cheek. “You have… lipstick on you.”

Lance blinks and pats the wrong side of his face. When Allura points to the specific spot, he scrubs it off with a shrug. “Yeah, I had Keith do the partner makeup tag thing. Anyway—”

“Yes, we’re dating.” Allura folds her laptop shut. She’s working ahead, anyway. “Why do you ask?”

“Well.” Lance drums his fingers along the tabletop. “Keith and I were wondering if you two would like to go on a double date with us.”

His tone implies it was his idea, which Allura doesn’t doubt. She pauses and leans into her knuckles. “I mean, I’m up for it, but I’d have to ask Shay’s opinion.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool,” says Lance, waving a hand. Now that Allura pays attention to it, she notices chipped bits of dark blue eyeshadow and peeling crimson nail polish. She smiles to herself. Lance checks his wrist—the real watch there, not the blank timer. “I have a class in like, five minutes, so I’ve gotta jet. Just let me know, I guess?”

As soon as he’s gone, saying goodbye in the form of finger guns with sound effects, Allura opens her laptop again. Instead of continuing next week’s work, she grabs her phone.

...Right, she still has a blocker app open. She bites her lip. She’s almost tempted to email Shay, like this is 2008, but she doesn’t have her address. Since there are still about forty minutes left on her timer and she doesn’t want to kill the tree (she’s oddly sentimental about a bunch of pixels), she brings up Twitter.

 **You:** Hey, I can’t use my phone atm so I figured this was as close as I could get :p  
**You:** Want to go on a double date with Lance and Keith?

While she waits for a response, she brings up her study guide. Distracted, she taps absently at her keyboard. She returns to her Twitter feed before long—recognizing her lack of focus makes her even more distracted. She’s lost track of time when Shay messages back.

 **Shay V:** Sorry, was in lecture!  
**Shay V:** That sounds magnificent! I have not met Keith yet, just heard tales of him. :)  
**Shay V:** Where to?  
**You:** Great!! And let me ask!

She brings up her recent DMs with Lance. Last week, they’d talked excitedly about his most recent video, featuring her and a discussion about their respective soulmates.

 **You:** Shay is on board! Where were you planning on going?

He replies in less than a minute. Allura’s harbored the sneaking suspicion Lance is always online—class or no class—for months now.

 **Lance Alvarez:** Uhhh it sounds very cliche for me (which, ngl, it is) but we were thinking the local aquarium?  
**Lance Alvarez:** If that sounds cool with you  
**You:** Sounds fun! I’ll ask Shay what she thinks.

Allura feels like she’s playing phone tag, but she brings up Shay’s DMs again. The idea of a group chat crosses her mind.

 **You:** How does the aquarium sound?  
**Shay V:** !!!!!!  
**Shay V:** I adore aquariums, but I have not been able to visit the closest one yet. (I assume that is our specific destination?)  
**You:** Yes! Lance is a marine biology major, so he frequents that one. I haven’t been in a few months, and I don’t know if he’s gone there with Keith, so it’ll be fun :)!  
**You:** I’ll tell Lance you’re good and let you know some dates and times! Can’t wait to see you!  
**Shay V:** You either!!!

She’s tempted to send heart emojis to Shay for as long as she can manage, but she dutifully returns to Lance’s DMs. Fifteen minutes of haggling and actually making a group DM (and adding Keith), they’ve got a time that works for all four of them.

That Sunday at noon, they gather at the aquarium, Lance in a shark shirt that Allura is fairly certain he purchased in the gift shop they’re standing outside of now. Keith adjusts his leather jacket, which Shay points out is a red version of hers.

“You look like a motorcycle person,” Allura tells Keith, furtively tucking away flyaway hairs. She’s tempted to just gush about having convinced Shay to drive her on her motorcycle—both a terrifying and exhilarating experience. Allura still isn’t sure if her yells had been out of fear or excitement. Maybe both.

Keith shrugs. “Always wanted one, but Shiro says it’d be a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Honestly,” says Lance, “that’s fair. Wait, didn’t Shiro have a moped once, though?”

“Yeah, when he lived in Japan.” Keith stuffs his gloved hands in his pockets. “He sold it before he came back to California, and the couple times I visited him he didn’t let me drive it.” His face pulls into a pout. “He says he’d fear for his life even if he wasn’t riding with me.”

Shay laughs, covering her mouth. “My parents were very concerned with me purchasing one, but they have grown to accept it. Or at least I am far enough away now that they cannot do anything about it.”

Keith glances Shay over and quirks his head. “Can I take your bike for a spin sometime?”

“I will not tell Takashi if you do not,” says Shay, winking.

“Great,” says Keith, with a wolfish grin. He clears his throat and glances behind him, where several other people hover in line.

“Let’s go in,” says Lance, waving his hand and bouncing on his toes.

They file in two by two, Allura slipping her hand into Shay’s like second nature. Shay takes a pamphlet, including a map, from the girl manning the info desk—Lance greets her as Plaxum. Allura thinks she’s seen her hanging out with Florona, and nods politely. She doesn’t think they’ll need the map, what with Lance being with them, but says nothing as they pass into the exhibition areas.

The first things they pass are the wide shark tanks—a tiger shark flits about in one, beady eyes fixed on them. Lance trails off in a glowing introductory description. He untangles his hand from Keith’s to wander over to the tiger shark tank and press that hand to the glass. He grins at the shark, who bears its teeth in response. Allura raises her eyebrows.

“This is Juno,” says Lance, turning to the rest of them. “She was born here about, uh, five years ago?” He tilts his head at the tank. “I have no idea if she actually recognizes me or whatever, but watching her is calming.”

Allura gets that feeling. She gazes around at the tanks, where fish and sharks and other creatures, saltwater and freshwater alike, mill about. She squeezes Shay’s hand a little tighter.

A few minutes later, after Lance has cooed at Juno like she’s a puppy and Keith has joked (maybe) that _she_ might as well be his soulmate, they drift over to the floor-to-ceiling fish exhibits. Colorful varieties of fish dart back and forth—so many it’s difficult for Allura to process all at once. She tugs her phone out of her pocket. Might as well keep the memories. Behind her, she hears Lance giving his best impression of a tour guide.

“You should find an occupation here,” suggests Shay.

Lance pauses in the middle of talking about the China rockfish and smiles at her. “They’re not accepting new jobs ‘til spring,” he says, mockingly wiping a nonexistent tear from his eye. “But yeah, I’m definitely applying when they open.”

Shay clasps her hands together. “You are already doing a sublime job.” Lance rubs the back of his neck. “Tell me about that,” she adds, pointing to something near the bottom of another tank. Allura had thought it to be part of the sand, but now she sees dark spots and ridges.

“Oh!” Lance straightens up and darts over at the speed of light. “That’s a Pacific angelshark—they look a lot like rays, ‘cause they’re flat, right? But their gills are on the sides of their heads, so. Not rays. They’re found along the west coast, from Alaska to California and Ecuador to Chile—”

Allura strolls over to Keith, who’s having a staring contest with what Lance had called a spiny dogfish, and nudges his shoulder. He ducks his hand in his pocket and peers up. Allura gestures over her shoulder and says, “They get along really well.”

“I think Hunk introduced them a bit ago,” says Keith, straightening up. His eyes flicker between the top of Allura’s head and the dogfish. “And Shay’s really—I’m not good at trusting people I don’t know, y’know, but she’s the kind of person you _want_ to trust.”

Allura smiles. “I know what you mean,” she says, a little dreamy.

Keith coughs and runs his hand across the tank, thumb leaving a visible print. The spiny dogfish wriggles away. “Looking at this is like looking at space.”

“They _are_ both deep and mysterious,” says Allura. She peers at the fish species floating around inside—some alike in shape and size and color, others complete opposites. She smiles and lifts her hand, placing it to the upper right of Keith’s. “You’re a visual art major, yes?”

“Yeah…?”

Allura glances behind her to make sure Lance isn’t hovering, but he’s still chattering to Shay, about another fish now. “If you ever need an idea of present for Lance—by the way, he’s nice enough that he really won’t mind if you don’t have time or money, but he also just likes having things… draw sea animals.”

Keith considers this for a moment before reaching into his messenger bag and pulling out a sketchbook. It looks professional, with a sleek cover decorated with stickers. Keith glances over Allura’s shoulder at Lance, then flips through a few pages and shows her one of several sketches. “He takes a lot of pictures here and posts them on Instagram. I started doing studies.”

“Oh, wow.” Allura clutches the sides of the sketchbook. She grazes her fingers over the sketch of a leopard shark—not touching the paper, but tracing the rough pencil outline. It looks real, like it’s about to pop off the page even without color. She hasn’t seen Keith’s artwork before, and she regrets never asking. “It’s incredible. He would love just these sketches.”

An awkward smile plays across Keith’s face. “Thank you. I’m not really good at determining reactions, so—”

“Of course.” Allura straightens up, pressing the sketchbook back into his hands and beaming, just in time as Lance comes shuffling over. “Welcome back,” she says, to both him and her girlfriend.

Said girlfriend kisses her cheek on approach. Allura’s face boils. Her fingers come up to brush the spot. She peers up with a giddy smile. Shay stretches her hand out, and Allura takes it without question. Tucking her hand into her jean pocket, Shay exchanges a secretive grin with Lance.

Lance’s posture seems looser than usual, and that’s saying something. He takes Keith’s hand and drapes his other arm around Allura’s shoulder, steering the three of them toward the other end of the room. “You guys will love _enteroctopus dofleini_ —the Great Pacific Octopus. Scientists are pretty sure it’s the biggest octopus in existence.”

They _do_ love the Great Pacific Octopus, as it turns out. A number of tanks and Lance-given descriptions later, they wind up back at the entrance. Exchanging glances, it seems to be an unspoken agreement that they’re going into the gift shop.

While Keith’s back is turned, Lance grabs an ocean-themed notebook; while Lance is doing that, Keith sneaks a stuffed tiger shark to the counter. Allura and Shay exchange fondly exasperated glances—then do the same. Allura buys Shay a giant octopus plush; Shay buys Allura a penguin-patterned hoodie. The cashier looks exhausted, but rings them all up.

“Hey,” yells Allura, in the parking lot, as Lance and Keith are heading to Lance’s Impala. “Let’s do this again sometime!”

Next to her, stuffed octopus tucked under her free arm instead of in a shopping bag, Shay nods. Keith gives a thumbs-up. Lance shouts over his shoulder, “Hell yeah!”

So, if Allura says so herself, it’s a great experimental double date.

+

Winter comes sooner than Allura expects it to—one night, it seems, the leaves have begun changing colors. The next, snow is piled outside her dorm window.

She sighs when she gets the email of class’s cancellation… after she’s already up and dressed. Florona snores on. The joys of having Professor Luxia, who sends out cancellation notices the night prior, instead of the brilliant but neurotic Professor Slav.

Allura glances down at her top and skirt and glances again at her updo in the mirror, pushed back with a fuzzy headband that falls over her ears. She slings the scarf in her hand around her neck and folds it. Well, she might as well find something to do. When she considers her row of coats before sliding Shay’s Letterman on, the sleeve tips back to show the blank timer on her wrist.

She smiles and reaches for her phone, typing: _Do you have class today?_

And so ten minutes later, she’s sitting across from Shay in the crowded Pink Lion. They’ve both ordered steaming mugs of hot cocoa. Nyma had beamed at the sight of them and ushered them to the reserved best seats in the house.

“How have you been faring?” says Shay. Her hair sticks up with static, beanie discarded on the table. She still wears her mittens and jacket, pressing one hand against her mug. Already flushed from the cold, she goes a little redder. “We just spoke yesterday, but—”

Allura grins. “It’s cool.” She blows on her cup. “I’ve been well! Class got cancelled last minute this morning, but at least we have a great view.”

She sweeps her arm toward the window, where a winter wonderland of snow and ice sparkle. A nearby bench is completely encased in frost. Shay shudders, but smiles toward Allura, who tugs at her headband and shifts against the table.

Sipping from her cocoa, she lowers it to ask, “How about you?”

“I am doing well.” Shay follows in her example and takes a long sip of cocoa. She tucks her chair in closer, edging away from the nearest table, and her knees brush Allura’s under their table. “Do you have any events planned soon? I was planning on returning to my family over winter break, but I am not sure if I can travel that far safely.”

“Your family lives up in Montana, right?” Allura leans back. She’d been lucky enough to get into a good college practically in her hometown, but she knows plenty of others aren’t so fortunate.

Shay takes a smaller sip. “Correct. The village I grew up in is minuscule—in an unincorporated community in the Rocky Mountains. But everyone aside from, well, you and our friends at Garrison resides there still. Rax attended the closest university. I love seeing him and our parents, but…”

“That’s rough,” says Allura, taking Shay’s hand. She can’t quite intertwine their fingers, what with the mitten, but she splays her palm over the back of Shay’s hand. Shay smiles. “Well, if you end up not having anything to do over break, I might have a suggestion.”

She hadn’t been planning to bring it up so early, but well, it’s out now. She tries to keep her mind from jumping to the place it’s going: Shay meeting hers parents. All three of them. At once. They know she’d found her soulmate—Allura had told Coran first after her friends, because he was least likely to overreact in a bad way (he did in a good way, but she didn’t mind). There’s still a difference between knowing and meeting.

Before Allura can catapult off the deep end, Shay quirks her head. “What would that be?”

“Well, you know how my father is the CEO of Altea Aircraft?” Shay nods. “He holds this annual gala for charity. We donate to many organizations—Father has always believed those with the means should be philanthropic, so we hold these galas for different charities.” Allura takes a sip of her cocoa. Shay is still nodding, not running in terror at the concept—good start. “And of course, as the heiress, I’ve attended every one I’ve been alive for. You don’t have to make up your mind yet,” she assures. “It’s not until almost Christmas. But I would really love it if you could come.”

Shay blinks, processing, and she splays her other hand over hers and Allura’s. “That sounds like a wonderful festivity. It would be my delight to attend—if I am able.”

“Awesome.” Allura gulps down some more cocoa. Well, that went well. She pats Shay’s uppermost hand, making an odd stack of their hands, and returns her wide smile. “So, how have your classes been going?”

+

The evening of the gala, Allura is running early as usual. She sits fully dressed and made up on her bed, a little absentminded. Florona had assisted with touching up her roots with pearl dye and pinning her hair up into space buns. Allura smooths out the puffy skirt of her pale magenta gown and glances around her.

She grabs her contact mirror from the nightstand, to Florona’s vexed sigh. Allura squints at her reflection: violet lipstick, royal purple eyeshadow dotted with pale yellow like stars. A stray hair here, a smudge of eyeliner where it shouldn’t be there.

“You’ll do fine,” says Florona.

Allura narrows her eyes, unable to find anything else about herself she can fix, and snaps the mirror shut. “It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Florona sighs again, and she stands and crosses the room to place her hands on Allura’s shoulders. “Shay will do great,” she says. “She makes awesome first impressions. I’ve met her once and I love her.”

“That’s true.” Allura takes a breath and shakes Florona’s hands off to run her hands through her hair again, careful not to disrupt the styling. She claps a hand on either side of her face. Cheeks buzzing and heart rate relaxing, she fixes her waistband and stands. “Okay,” she says, more to herself than Florona, “this is going to go well. And even if it doesn’t, well—I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

Florona beams and pumps her fists in the air. “That’s the spirit.”

Allura grins back and squeezes Florona’s shoulders. As if scheduled (which, Allura supposes, it was), a knock rings out through the dorm. Loud but gentle. Florona mouths _good luck!_ , and Allura gives a cheery nod. She scoops up her skirt and scurries toward the door.

As she swings the door open, she lets her skirt fall back around her knees and starts to say “Good evening!” She only gets to the _good_ part before her mouth flat-out refuses to work. Shay stands there, shuffling in glittery pumps and toying with sparkling cufflinks and absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous.

Her dark hair is slicked back and shiny, curlier than Allura’s ever seen it. She dons a dark set of a tuxedo jacket and trousers; tucked underneath, an olive vest and cream dress shirt. Her bowtie is sequined and gold, the same color as her hoop earrings, which glow with the rest of the ensemble.

Allura clears her throat and tries to recover her breath. Shay drops her hands to her sides and says, quiet, “I made the assumption it would be rather formal. I have never worn anything this, ah, black tie before, so—”

“You look stunning.” Allura leans up—a little less distance than usual, with her in two-inch heels—and kisses her, gentle and quick. She tries not to get any lipstick on Shay’s face, but fails, leaving a dash of violet. Her hands settle on Shay’s arms. “And yes, it is pretty formal, but Father doesn’t mind business casual from those who cannot manage that. Oh, I should’ve given you the flier. I’m _so_ sorry—”

Shay shakes her head. “It is perfectly fine,” she says, smiling. “It was enjoyable to search for this apparel. Something new.” She glances Allura over, her toothy smile widening. “And you are as fair as ever. That dress is lovely, and I adore the makeup.”

Allura flushes and kisses her again, on the cheek this time and definitely leaving a faint lipstick mark. They hover for a moment in the doorway, calm and exchanging smiles instead of words. Then Allura remembers they do have a prior engagement.

“Shall we be heading off, then?”

“I suppose we shall.”

+

They arrive thirty minutes before the gala opens. Alfor, darting around the auditorium and making last-minute adjustments, doesn’t notice them at first. Coran and Eudora, however, do. Allura steps by instinct and probable necessity in front of Shay, who relaxes at there only being three people.

“Allura!”

Coran rushes toward her with all the overabundance Allura has missed in the months since she saw him last. She initiates the embrace for once, clinging tight to the padded shoulders of his tux. After the surprise wears off, Coran laughs and squeezes her—a little too tight. Allura chokes a little, but he loosens up and she’s wiping away a tear by the time she pulls away. Coran holds her arms and smiles.

“It’s great to see you,” he says, eyes shining.

“Likewise,” says Allura, pretending neither of them are on the verge of crying. “Your mustache is still—” He lifts his bushy eyebrows expectantly. Allura sighs, unable to commit herself to the insult (yet—the night is still young). “Face-fitting. But I am arranging an intervention: the shoulder pads must go.”

“Wh—they’re _fashionable_!”

“In the eighties, perhaps.” Eudora pats his arm as she strolls toward them, the paragon of middle-aged elegance. She sweeps her stylish side braid over her shoulder and smiles at Allura, crow’s feet crinkling. “You look gorgeous, my dear. It’s been too long.”

“School has a way of doing that,” says Allura, blinking even harder. She steps into Eudora’s arms and holds her. She might be wearing heels, but as always, Eudora is wearing higher ones. Allura sniffles into her mother’s collarbone. “It’s good to see you, Mother. You’re looking so well.”

“And you, _chèrie_.” Eudora rubs her back before stepping out of the embrace, adoration in her eyes. Her gaze lifts over Allura’s shoulder, which gives Coran all the encouragement he needs to blurt it out. He’s been vibrating for two minutes.

“And it’s so nice to see your soulmate in person!” he says in a near yell, which finally draws Alfor’s attention.

Before Allura can intervene in Coran rushing to shake Shay’s hand at a speed and ferocity that makes Allura’s wrist hurt, she’s enveloped in another hug. She laughs, delighted, as she’s scooped off the ground by her other father. Alfor stands tall above her, his distinguished gray-tipped ponytail as, well, distinguished as ever. He adjusts his bowtie surreptitiously, draped in maroon as is his trademark.

Allura squeezes his shoulders as she’s swung back to the ground. “Father, is this a new suit? It looks amazing! Did you finally replace Aubrey? I told you he always left too much cuff. How are you doing? And, oh, it’s so great to see you—I know it really hasn’t been that long, but you know what they say about distance—”

“Allura, Allura,” says Alfor, clasping her shoulders. “Slow down, darling. We have all the time in the world.”

Allura breathes in and out, steadying herself. She runs a hand through her hair and smiles up at him. “As if you have any room to talk,” she says, swatting his arm. “You who barely know the meaning of _slow_. I do love the suit, though.”

“Yes—I did get a new tailor.” Alfor tugs at his lapels, where an array of jewel pins gleam. “And now to barrage you with questions: How have you been adjusting? Is school going well? Are you getting good grades like I assured you you would for eleven years? I know for a fact you’ve made friends—how are they? I swear you’re taller than last time. Have you grown in _three months_?”

Allura laughs, a little lightheaded. Okay, she deserved that. She swats her father’s shoulder again. “Father, it’s called heels.” She gestures to her footwear. “I would think you would know, with Mother’s fashion choices.”

If she’d been listening in on Shay, Coran, and Eudora’s low conversation, she’d hear Eudora wondering about her burning ears. Alfor chuckles and squeezes Allura’s shoulders. “Heels,” he says, wonderstruck. “Is this the same girl who wanted to wear a hoodie and denim shorts to a meeting with Galra Industries?”

“It is indeed.” Allura clings to Alfor’s arms a moment longer, afraid she’ll tumble when she lets go. Sometimes, she thinks, you have to fall. She takes a gracious step back and glances over her shoulder—Shay and her other parents are laughing, so things must be going well.

“Ah, yes.” She turns back. Alfor has taken on his _wise old man_ expression—eyes crinkled, one brow lifted, lips quirked up, hand stroking his beard. “And now the most important question of all: how is having a soulmate?”

Allura is tempted to spark a debate at that phrasing—everyone _has_ a soulmate, but not everyone has _met_ them yet. She doesn’t, too overcome with the affection in her stomach—for both Shay and her family. (Or, says a quiet voice, are those one and the same?) (She tucks this away to dwell on it later.)

She sighs dreamily, a million answers flickering through her mind. “It’s astounding, Father,” she says, clasping her hands together. “I understand now why you told me it would be worth the wait.”

Alfor looks elated. “You remember that, huh?”

“Of course.” Allura tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “I truly feel as if she is my other half—as cheesy as that sounds.” She laughs, and Alfor smiles. “She is the most wonderful, kind, thoughtful, interesting person I’ve ever met. All those romantic stories… I never thought I could relate to them. And I still don’t fully relate, but because it’s so much _better_ than a fairytale.”

Alfor’s smile widens, and he wraps Allura in another hug. When he pulls back, he kisses her forehead and says, “That’s all I wanted to hear. Now, I suppose I should meet her for real.”

Anxiety bubbles in Allura’s stomach, but she tries not to let her face betray it and takes her father’s hand. “You’ll love her.”

Alfor continues stroking his chin, but he lets himself be led over to where Shay, Eudora, and Coran have burst into more giggles. Shay and Allura’s eyes meet—Shay brightens. She picks at her cufflinks when she notices Alfor. Allura smiles in what she hopes is a confident manner and lets go of Alfor’s hand.

Eudora and Coran sidestep, exchanging hesitant grins, as Alfor approaches Shay. He’s shorter and skinnier, but ignores it, taking Shay’s hand gently. “Nice to finally meet the girl my daughter talks so much about.” He throws a smirk over his shoulder, where Allura flushes and drops her gaze. “I am Alfor—though you probably already knew that, being Allura’s father as well as the CEO of a prestigious aircraft company.”

“What’s he doing?” mutters Allura, leaning over to Coran.

“Don’t worry,” says Coran breezily. “I’m sure your father isn’t meaning to intimidate. Or perhaps he is. Who can say what his plan is? If he _has_ a plan, that is.”

“That’s helpful.”

“Always glad to assist.”

Shay shakes Alfor’s hand, cautious, and smiles down at him. “Yes, sir,” she says. “It is also a pleasure to confabulate with my soulmate and girlfriend’s father.”

Alfor’s expression softens. He pats Shay’s hand before letting his own fall back to his side. “Please, Miss Vox, call me Alfor. It’s the least you can do, as part of our family now.” He gestures around the auditorium. “The gala begins in—” He checks his watch. “About twenty minutes, so please enjoy yourself. Refreshments are that way, and if you have any concerns—about the event or anything concerning Allura—do not fear to seek me out.”

Shay beams. “Of course, Alfor.”

“I’ll share baby pictures and embarrassing stories with you at any given moment,” adds Coran, winking. “Just look for this stellar hairdo.” He points to his slicked-back mullet.

Eudora sighs. “I apologize for him. He can be serious sometimes.”

“Oh, I do not mind. It is refreshing.”

Allura doesn’t know if she can insert herself into the conversation now, but she smiles and nudges past Alfor to link her arm with Shay’s. “Come on, let’s go get some snacks before Lotor gets here.”

“Lotor?”

“Terrible,” assures Allura, with a shudder that isn’t at all exaggerated. Just the name makes her skin crawl. “The slimeball heir to Galra Industries, but let’s not speak of him.”

Shay mimes zipping her lips.

(If Allura were to listen in on the conversation occurring behind them, she would hear this:

Coran sniffles and says tearfully, “They grow up so fast.”

Eudora says, smile obvious in her voice, “What a lovely girl. She and Allura were—quite literally—a match made in heaven. I hope she isn’t too overwhelmed by all this. She grew up in a real rural place, she told us.”

Alfor says, wise and old, “I’m sure she’ll get by. She seems like the type who will take like a duck to water.”

Then all three of them sigh and clap their hands over their hearts at Allura offering Shay a biscuit. Coran and Eudora lean their heads on either of Alfor’s shoulders.

Eudora says, “You’re right, they grow up so fast. Just yesterday she was in middle school, writing bad poetry about this day.”

Coran’s last coherent words before the arrival of the guests are, “Would you like a tissue?”)

+

Later, as the guests’ collective need to make pleasantries has worn off and the evening is winding to an end, Allura drags Shay into a slow dance onto the almost empty floor. Some romantic French song is playing over the speakers. Allura’s been listening for the first couple minutes, but she doesn’t remember enough high school French to be able to translate it.

“I’m a bit rusty,” she tells Shay, draping an arm around her shoulder, “so forgive me if I trod on your feet.”

Shay laughs and lays her hand on Allura’s waist. Their free hands meet in the middle, tangling together in a loose array of warm fingers. They sway together. Allura keeps her eyes locked on Shay’s, corners of her mouth twitching up despite her exhaustion. Neither of them know how to lead _or_ follow, so Allura guides the spins and changes in pace to match the rhythm. Shay dips her a couple times, languid and careful, which Allura delights in.

They should take dancing lessons, she thinks, but she tucks the thought aside for another day. Allura’s father meets her eyes over Shay’s shoulder and smiles at her. On either side of him, Eudora and Coran talk behind their hands, though their grins creep out from behind their knuckles.

The song slows, the singer’s voice softening and music dying down. Allura leans up into Shay and kisses her. It’s unhurried and pleasant—for that long moment, it’s just them in the middle of a vacant dance floor. When Allura tips back, she squeezes Shay’s hand and says, soft, “I love you.”

Shay blinks, red blooming into her cheeks—and then a grin follows. Under the dim lighting, she still looks dapper and gorgeous. “I love you too.”

And it’s as easy as that. Allura feels the ground lift beneath her feet, like she’s on cotton. She kisses Shay again as the last few beats of the song segue into another. Their intertwined hands weave together. As the song speeds up, so do they, feet ducking and flowing. At one point, Shay dips Allura, further than she has for the five or forty minutes they’ve been dancing. Allura clings to her shoulders and beams.

Cinderella’s grand ball—where she locked eyes with her prince and their clocks hit zero—couldn’t have been this magical, thinks Allura. She isn’t Cinderella, and Shay isn’t a prince, but maybe they could star in their own fairytale.

Allura, pulled upright again, steadies her hand around Shay’s neck and swings to the beat. She doesn’t have to get caught on the little details now. For now, they can be the only ones in the galaxy: a heiress and a teacher in love, holding hands, dancing and kissing and laughing.

And, for now, that’s perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr (@dndbutch) if you want! though i don't post voltron anymore
> 
> please comment and/or leave kudos if you liked!!!


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